


enjoy the taste i leave in your mouth

by seditonem



Series: antics involving percy jackson and apollo [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 21:39:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seditonem/pseuds/seditonem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which three weeks have passed<br/>i forgot to come up with haikus, and apollo apologises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	enjoy the taste i leave in your mouth

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: sex i presume, and language, and things like that.   
> disclaimer: sorry.

“You look positively drenched,” a voice says, and Percy freezes. He’s halfway out of the sea, his feet sinking into the slippery sand, and Apollo is standing right at the edge, tiny waves lapping at his toes. 

“I’m completely dry,” Percy says, shortly. Apollo shrugs.

“You’re not a girl so I can’t say ‘you look so wet’, but I’ve got to start the conversation somehow,” he sighs, and Percy has to hide a smile. 

“I’m sure you could have thought of a rhyming couplet,” he replies, picking up his bag of books. His essay on the influences of changes in the marine world on commerce in America is due tomorrow, and he’s still got to type up some sort of conclusion. He really hates essays, though, and Apollo’s company is looking ever more tempting, even though all he’s done is show up. 

“Probably,” Apollo nods, and falls into step with Percy as he leaves the beach. 

There’s an awkward silence for a moment. Percy manages to observe Apollo out of the corner of his eye, and is slightly dismayed that the god looks exactly the same as he’s always done – loose jeans (barefoot now, though), sleeveless shirt, blond hair mussed so it looks like he just rolled out of bed, and a smile that alternately blinds and seduces Percy. _Typical. He doesn’t even look a day older,_ Percy grouches to himself. He digs his heels into the sand, feeling childish. 

It’s not like he has any reason to be angry with the sun god. It’s just that, well, y’know, three weeks without contact is a long time, especially after a whole year of ridiculously inappropriate prophesy dreams. Of course, driving the sun car/chariot/bus/motorcycle is a big job, but then surely he has nights off? And Percy knows he has a cell-phone – though then again it’s probably not a great idea to call a demi-god, what with monsters in the city. He feels even more childish as he thinks it through, his ADHD brain buzzing around every single idea that occurs to him. 

“So,” Apollo clears his throat. “How’ve you been?” 

“Fine,” Percy grits out, and unlocks the door to his car. He gets in, slams the door, revs the engine, and is out of the parking lot (still with sand between his toes and in his slip-on canvas shoes) in under twenty seconds. Still, when he looks to the side, Apollo’s in the passenger seat, looking slightly miffed. 

“Are you angry with me?” he asks, bewildered, and Percy nearly drives into a dune. 

“No,” he says, tightly. Every second that he’s angry is a second that he thinks _This is ridiculous and childish and I’ll just stop the car now and tell him I’m fine and he should go home or something_ , but of course he does none of these things. He keeps driving too fast, dunes zipping past. 

“So you’re angry,” Apollo continues. “You’re angry because you think I’m just another one of those gods who finds someone good-looking, has a good time and then leaves. You think this is going to be another one of those normal failure relationships.” Percy fights a blush at “good-looking”. He sighs, pulls over, and turns the key in the ignition. 

“I know your kids,” he says, blandly, after a minute. “I’ve seen your sons die. I don’t think whatever happens between us can exactly be classed as normal, ok?”

“Point,” Apollo sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“What do you want from me?” Percy suddenly asks, frowning. It comes out of the blue, and even Apollo seems shocked. “A quick fuck every now and then when you can’t get it anywhere else? An ego boost?” He looks at Apollo and changes his mind. “No, you probably don’t need an ego boost. So what is it, hmm?” 

Apollo looks vaguely intimidated for a second, and then his eyes flash dangerously. He grabs Percy’s arm and the world spins. When he can see straight again, Percy finds himself in a large, dimly-lit marble hall, a large, ornate bed at the centre. “Where am I?” he asks, pulling his arm out of Apollo’s grasp. Apollo fists his hand in Percy’s t-shirt instead, and drags him towards the bed, pushing him down. 

“You think you’re just some throw-away, do you?” the god asks, and his whole form flickers. “Is that how you think I am?” 

“To be fair,” Percy begins, and then thinks better of it. Apollo abruptly loses all his anger, as if someone flicked a switch and turned off a flame-thrower. 

“I know,” he starts, then pauses. “I know we gods don’t provide the best sides of ourselves for the public. But then again, who wants to read about happy stories? Your newspapers are full of gossip, lies, doom and gloom. Everybody’s trying to be one up on each other.” He pauses again, and runs his hand down Percy’s jaw-line. “You’ve probably heard most of the worst stories. But what about the other ones? What about Ariadne and Dionysus?” 

“Are you going to make a constellation for me too?” Percy asks, one eyebrow raised. Apollo rolls his eyes.

“I could make a whole fucking galaxy for you, Percy Jackson, but you probably wouldn’t be impressed,” he muses. “No, I think I’ll have to do this the old fashioned way.” 

Two seconds later Percy is no longer wearing anything that can be classed as clothes. His t-shirt is ripped down the middle, falling off his shoulders, and his jeans are on the other side of the hall, along with his boxers. 

“I liked those,” complains Percy, and Apollo kisses him instead of apologising. Which, Percy reasons, is actually a pretty good apology. Apollo bites down Percy’s neck, laving at the hollows just above his collarbones, and then spreads Percy’s legs on the soft cotton sheets. 

“I have thought about you every day,” Apollo whispers, each fingertip tracing down Percy’s legs. His hands circle Percy’s ankles, move up to his calves, and then back down again. 

“This isn’t a romance film,” Percy shoots back, acidly. 

“No,” nods Apollo, “if it was, you’d have boobs.” Percy smacks him lightly on the arm, amused despite himself. Apollo grins, planting a kiss on each of Percy’s knees, and then works his way back up Percy’s body until he’s between Percy’s legs. He spreads him with both hands, licking at his entrance until Percy can feel his tongue on the sensitive skin. He shivers, legs crooking until his feet press against Apollo’s back. He can _feel_ Apollo smile against him, like he can feel him press one finger against his hole and circle him, teasing. 

“Would you prefer me to have boobs?” he asks, trying to keep up the conversation so he won’t come immediately. 

“I’m rather fond of your cock, to be honest,” Apollo replies, licking at the base of it. Percy practically jerks out of his skin, the sensation is so intense. 

“Three weeks,” he pants, as Apollo crooks a finger into him, like he’s beckoning him. “Three long fucking weeks and no word from you.” 

“I didn’t get your email,” Apollo murmurs, tonguing at the muscle of Percy’s entrance. He adds another finger and Percy almost mewls with pleasure. 

“Three weeks,” he repeats, “I’ve been so hot I couldn’t even think straight. Went to the water today to try and get a clear head.” 

“Did you finger yourself?” Apollo asks, adding a third finger. “Did you? You did, didn’t you? That’s why you’re so loose, that’s why I can fit three fingers in without even having to work you open.” Percy blushes, his chest flushing a little too. “Say it,” Apollo whispers. 

“Yeah,” Percy bites out. “Yeah I did, every night, because I couldn’t fucking _sleep_.” 

“Just your fingers?” inquires Apollo, but his wicked grin says he knows everything. “C’mon, Percy, tell me.” 

“No,” gasps Percy, even though admitting it feels like the greatest defeat of his life. 

“What did you use?” Apollo breathes, the hot air of his exhalation against Percy’s cock. Percy whimpers, throwing one arm over his eyes so he doesn’t have to see how Apollo’s whole form is flickering with desire. Burning up in the bed. 

“I – ” he tries to say, and Apollo presses hard against his prostate. Percy comes hard, muscles making spasms around Apollo’s fingers. His cock is still hard, getting harder every second even as Apollo refuses to remove his fingers. 

“Percy,” Apollo whispers, “c’mon.” 

“Fuck,” Percy moans, voice wrecked and his whole body shaking. “Fuck,” he repeats, and then gives up completely. “I bought a toy, ok, just – I hate you,” he mutters, and Apollo laughs like it’s the best thing he’s ever heard. He licks at the head of Percy’s cock, mouthing it until his lips are smeared with precome, and then returns to licking at Percy’s hole, where the skin is now so sensitive it almost hurts. Percy moans with pent-up release; to be so close and pulled back is like torture. Apollo’s fingers are tight on his thighs, his other hand still with three digits inside Percy. He crooks them gently, pressing against Percy’s prostate, and adds a forth. 

“You like that, don’t you,” Apollo murmurs, kissing Percy’s thigh. Percy can’t even talk anymore, his whole body bent on pleasure. Apollo chuckles low in his throat, the vibrations pressing against Percy’s skin, and removes his fingers. He kneels back on the bed, looking down at Percy. 

Percy tries to support himself on his elbows, but they don’t want to take his weight. He lies boneless on the bed, staring up at the sun god. 

“I really hate you sometimes,” he says, quietly, as Apollo starts to stroke himself, his slick hand in a tight circle around his cock. 

“That’s what you like to pretend,” Apollo smiles, his breath hitching as he twists his wrist a little. His head falls back as he thrusts, the muscles of his thighs bunching. Percy pushes himself off the bed, still shaking a little, and crawls forward until he’s practically splayed on Apollo’s lap. He bats the god’s hands away, kissing him messily. Apollo moans appreciatively, his breath coming out in a stuttered gasp as Percy rubs their cocks together. 

“I want you in my bed each night,” Apollo murmurs. 

“That’s your libido talking,” Percy retorts, but the sting of it is lost as Apollo brings their hips together, precome stringing between their cocks in shining thin threads. Percy can’t look away from it, even as Apollo touches his fingers to the hot mess and brings them up to Percy’s lips. He sucks on Apollo’s fingers, rubbing the head of his cock against the length of Apollo’s until he’s coming, finally, starbursts of pleasure behind his eyes. 

Apollo still hasn’t come, he notes, when he opens his eyes and moves his head away from the crook of the god’s shoulder. In fact, Apollo’s actually shaking with the effort of it, a flush high on his cheek-bones. 

“Let me fuck you,” he says. Like some obscene prayer, Percy thinks. He moves back obediently, as if he has no free will of his own left, and Apollo moves him gently, arranging him so he’s on hands and knees. He can feel his arms shaking with anticipation, his cock already hardening again. “You’re still so loose,” Apollo murmurs, appreciatively, as he slides in slowly. Percy moans, his body taut with pleasure, and Apollo reaches around him to fist his hand around Percy’s cock. 

Somewhere in the middle of it, Percy’s arms give way and he has to rest his forehead against his wrists, his whole body shaking with every thrust. He can hear echoes of the sounds they make in the marble room, like they’re not alone, this coupling continuing forever. Apollo’s hands fix like bolts to his hips as he slams in again, hitting Percy’s prostate and forcing him into another orgasm. Heat burns along his back as Apollo loses control fractionally for a second, and then all is quiet. 

#

When he wakes up, he’s at home, in bed, the sheets tangled around his ankles. He’s naked, his bag of work at the foot of the bed, and there’s a mobile number written in permanent black marker on the inside of his left wrist. 

Percy grins, drags himself out of bed and finishes his essay.

**Author's Note:**

> i think i wrote this for a friend's birthday and no one could ever find it on my journal and it was all a mess but here it is in all its unholy glory.


End file.
